Seconds Out
by TapesAndRecords
Summary: "There was so much blood." Tony versus God. Round 2.


**note: **I'm back already, look! Before anyone asks, yes, I will be continuing _Abscond. _I replied to the reviews, saying just that, but just in case anyone wants to know, it will be added to. I just had to get this out my system first. It's kinda angsty, but I was watching Engaged the other day and started toying with this idea. So I love angry, shouting-at-God Tony, apparently.

**disclaimer: **You know you're obsessed with NCIS when people are watching Freaky Friday on TV but you already own it, because of Mark Harmon.

**listening to: **Carry you Home, by Nashville Skyline.

* * *

It was Ducky's idea. He guesses his shredded nerves and shaking hands must have been putting everyone else on-edge, and so the older man had approached him and quietly suggested Tony take a walk; get some air.  
How he ended up in the hospital chapel, he's not sure.

**000000**

It's quiet. Thick air, heavy with tears and wails of mourning families from many years ago; lingering silence from the door that thudded shut half a minute ago. The place is small, and empty, and he falters in his step.

This is awkward. The last time he set foot in a chapel like this, someone flicked a switch and there was nothing controlling his words, and he was yelling at the Big Man before he could make himself stop.

He heads almost to the front, nodding slightly in recognition at the altar, before shuffling sideways and perching on a pew that creaks just a little too much to be a comfort.  
"Ziva got stabbed. You knew that, of course. Thanks for stopping that and ev-"

He cuts himself off, determined not to go down that road again. Leaning his arms on the solitary row in front of him, he breathes in deeply. His mind goes through sentence after sentence of things to say, but for the first time in a long time, nothing leaves his mouth. He sits in silence and tries to block out images, until words finally begin to flow.

"Uh, I'm scared. Really, really scared. Because... I know this has happened to her before, and I know she's gotten through much worse things, but..."  
His eyes squeeze shut and the image he's been trying to forget, prevails regardless. "There was so much blood."

Stained fingers clenched tight into fists, he continues.  
"It got everywhere. I guess because of where… _it _happened, she could've lost a lot more, but… It was all over the grass and it spread through her clothes, a-and it was dripping down the handle of the freakin' _knife_- shit, sorry. _Sorry_."

He swallows and tries to regain whatever composure he'd briefly possessed, ignoring the tears welling in his eyes.  
"I know you're not supposed to go to God only when you need something, but I need her. I need her more than anything in this world and right now I'm completely terrified of losing her. And I am _not_ losing her now- not when we're so close to... to something. So I am begging you, don't take her from me."

There's footfall outside, but whoever's there doesn't step into the chapel, so he merely wipes away a stray tear and keeps going.  
"We had a deal, a long time ago. And you kept up your end, and I kept up mine, so maybe we're even now. But please... please don't let her leave me."

It takes a whole heap of courage to get his thoughts together enough to murmur one final thing.  
"I love her. But you know that already."

Another, louder, footstep and the door swings open this time, sending a block of artificial light down the aisle. His head twists to squint at the figure in the doorway.  
Abby stands there, illuminated, hair like a halo and tearstains on her cheeks.  
"The doctor just got out. Gibbs made him wait to tell us anything until you came back."

He hesitates at standing, still worried, but Abby seems relatively composed, which he takes as a good sign. He steps out from his seat and heads back to her- to them, to Ziva-, sending a last look at the cross suspended in mid-air, directly opposite.

**000000**

"Oh, you're good. You're very good-"

A woman looks up from her prayer, looking sad and angry, and he stops mid-exclamation to send her an apologetic glance on his way up to the front.

"Thank you." he says, standing in front of the altar and thinking about his dozing partner in a room upstairs. Maybe the woman just behind him wasn't quite as lucky as he was.

He repeats his words again, and leaves, not even looking back.

* * *

_Feel free to let me know what you thought._


End file.
